Heaven's Feel II: The Second Holy Grail War
by Black Sword
Summary: Seven Masters have been chosen, their hands marked with the holy symbol. The ritual is known. The Servants will be summoned. The Second Holy Grail War will begin.
1. Introduction

Sixty years ago in faraway Japan, the magi of three families, under the supervision of the Second Magician Kaleidoscope, came together to conduct a ritual of rare power. This ritual brought into this world a great object known as the Holy Grail.

It is an omnipotent wish-granting device, an artifact that replicates true magic. It is capable of granting any one wish in this world, but only one. With one wish that could not be shared, the three families split and fought for the right to make that wish, and the opportunity to make that wish was lost.

After a slumber of over half a century, the Holy Grail has awakened and seeks to fulfill its purpose. It has chosen those who will be given the right to fight to make their wish, those who created it and those who truly need.

In order to truly bring forth the Holy Grail, it requires seven magi. Even so, a wish cannot be granted based on the strength of such puny souls. In order to grant any wish, the Holy Grail requires a greater fuel, something that embodies the hopes and dreams of humanity. That fuel would be Heroic Spirits.

To fill the Holy Grail, six Heroic Spirits must be sacrificed. These are summoned by the chosen magi, who become the Master of the Heroic Spirit, a familiar similar to a Ghost Liner. The familiar, a Servant, joins forces with the Master to seek the miracle.

Seven Masters have been chosen, their hands marked with the holy symbol. The ritual is known. The Servants will be summoned.

The Second Holy Grail War will begin.


	2. Credits

This is a novelization of a role-playing game in progress on the Beast's Lair forum. I developed the premise for the game as well as the Servants that appear throughout. The Masters are the original characters of the participants. As the content of the novelization is being developed from the posts of the players, my role is now merely that of editor, removing anachronisms, bringing things into line with the canon of the fate series, improving flow, and otherwise making everything work together.

The players chosen by Fate for this tale are:

**Masters**

**Tohsaka Mio** – _hero_

**Adolf von Einzbern** – _bloble_

**Sergei** – _llednaroth_

**Katsuhiro Yamanashi** – _Xamusel_

**Alexandra Wilcox** – _LeopardBear_

**Katerina Romanova** - _Knight_ _Turtle_

**Cassandra Blake** – _RacingeR_

**Servants**

**Archer** - _Satehi_

**Assassin** - _Elyrin_

**Berserker** - _Mellon_

**Caster** - _Milbunk_

**Lancer** - _Vahan_

**Rider** - _Five_X_

**Saber** – _Lycodrake_

Last but not least is **food**, controller of **Matou Zouken** and the invaluable **Master of Lore** for the entire Type Moon universe. Thanks to all of you!


	3. 22 December 1873

It was snowy, and that was the way Katerina liked it. Snow kept her safe. Snow was like her hair.

She looked up at her father as he stared down at her.

"Katerina. You're almost done. After this, there will be one more test. And then you can come home."

Her father's voice was cold and empty. The words were comforting, but the way they were said... Katerina frowned and wondered what that next test would be.

"What's this test, Papa?" Katerina motioned her bear, lying nearby, to come closer. "Nikolai, come here. Papa probably needs you too."

The bear got up slowly and lumbered towards the pair. He stooped so that Katerina could climb on.

"Katerina, there are several radicals in the woods, not far from here. Nikolai should be able to track them down."

"And then, Papa? Is it the same as usual?" Maybe... It was different this time. Not the same as before, and before, and before. But she was fine with the same. Variety was nice, but like snow, everything was better when it was the same.

"Of course." Her father turned and walked away, before tossing her an amulet of sorts. "Tap that thrice against metal when you are done. We'll know to get you."

Katerina snatched it out of the air, and watched her father vanish. This was the second to last test. After that, there would be one more. And then she could live with Mama and Papa again.

With a few rapid pats, Nikolai ran through the snow, looking for their prey.

Many hours later, the sound of crunching snow echoed through the empty forest.

"Papa, we're finished!" Katerina looked at her father with joy, stained in blood. Nikolai, the trusty bear, was similarly soaked.

Katerina's father looked around at the cabin. Blood smeared every inch of wood. Several mangled corpses decorated the floor, partially consumed. It would easily make any normal citizen sick, but he was a magus and a noble.

But he never looked at his daughter at times like these.

He inspected the rooms, his daughter and the bear close behind. Gradually, they made their way around, until they finally left.

"You've done well, Katerina. We're going home now, so you can get cleaned up." Count Romanov turned to glance at his daughter, then cringed.

Katerina frowned. She did what Papa had asked, but why was he sad? Katerina waved at Nikolai to follow.

"Katerina, _milaya moya_, do you know what your next test is?"

"I don't, Papa."

"You're going to participate in something called a 'Holy Grail War', _milaya moya_..."

"Isn't war bad, Papa?"

The count stopped. "Of course it is," he said slowly. "But this... this is for Russia. If you win, everyone will be happy."

"I understand, Papa. If it'll make everyone happy, I'll do it!" Katerina hopped around excitedly. If this would make everyone happy, surely Papa was one of them! Then he could smile and stop being sad all the time. Katerina was about to say as much when she noticed something strange.

"Papa, where is all that ice coming from?" Her father was leaving a small trail of tiny, frozen crystals. If someone was going to track them, it would make it really easy, Katerina thought.

"I'm just practicing a spell, _milaya moya_. Nothing to worry about."


	4. 29 December 1873

"Thank you, come again," Yamanashi Katsuhiro cheerfully called out to the latest patron of the library as he left. With no one else in the immediate area to hear him, he sighed in annoyance at the job his father had dumped on him. He had hoped to continue sorting the books, but now that he was stuck with this position for the day, the books he had sorted would inevitably end up out of place.

With nothing better to do, he pull out his deck of tarot cards and tried to see how long it would take to reach the Thirteenth Arcana, Death. He hoped that at least Taikobo or Emiri would be able to save him.

"Kon'nichiwa, Katsu-kun," said a feminine voice politely from behind him just as he was about to spread out the tarot cards in the Celtic Cross.

_Gossip about someone and her shadow will appear_.

Katsu turned to face his longtime crush. Takahata Emiri was in her winter clothes, meaning she must've just come in from the cold. _Still, I wonder what's keeping Taikobo_...

As if reading his mind, Emiri answered in an urgent tone, "Tai-kun is stuck in another street fight, but this time with a renegade from Edo."

_Oh. That explains it. Taikobo does like to get into fights with people that have magic in their blood_...

_Shit_.

Katsu put his deck away in a hurry. "I'm out to fetch Taikobo, and I'll be back in a bit!" Before his father could tell him otherwise, Katsu rushed out the door of the library, trying to find a way to interrupt the fight before either party died.

Outside, the sound of escalating conflict heading up one of the nearby streets meant that someone was running away from a foe that was obviously too powerful for them. _Now who's doing the chasing _this _time?_ Normally it was Taikobo doing the chasing, but there had been three times when it was the other way around and Katsu had needed to intervene.

A green-haired man around Katsu's age ran to the intersection and made a left, heading east, the complete opposite direction from the library, with a red-head following in hot pursuit. The green-haired man wore _gaijin_ clothes underneath his tan overcoat, while the way the winter kimono clung to the body of the man's pursuer made it obvious she was a woman, while the unknown curses she flung toward his friend made it clear she had the gift.

Katsu resisted the urge to slap his palm against his face. _He just _had _to piss off a woman, didn't he? My bloody luck is not going anywhere near as good as it should be. _

Now I have to use Reinforcement to catch up to Taikobo and help him lose the Edo citizen, the woman at that!

Preparing his mind for Thaumaturgy, Katsu began to chant. "Anfang, Verbesserung der Bewegung durch ein!"

The image of a tarot card embedding itself in Katsu's forehead triggered his circuits. As his circuits opened up, Od streamed throughout his body as he Reinforced himself. The spell would lend him the speed to catch up to Taikobo. It took mere seconds to reach the woman as she turned the corner. As she prepared another of her curses, Katsu accidentally ran right into her. The woman fell face-first while Katsu staggered backwards before recovering his balance.

A glance confirmed the situation: Taikobo had run into a closed alley, with no way to get out of his mess alive. Katsu walked around the woman and over to his friend. He cheerfully asked, "Hey, Taikobo, need a hand?"

Before he could answer, the woman regained her footing and got back up. Her laugh, high-pitched and somewhat artificial, made it clear she was the daughter of a nobleman or someone with similar social pretensions. _This time I'm going to die_, he thought before he crushed the idea, a byproduct of his sense of danger overreacting again.

As he strove to calm himself, the noblewoman called out to them. "Oh, boys," she said in a seductive voice as she opened her kimono, "are you sure you don't want have a piece of me? One of you could have your way with me first, then the other second, hopefully with enough chance to keep me loved wonderfully."

Her bosom was superb, marvelously full. Katsu felt desire fill him as his body reacted to the obvious temptation. A noblewoman with such a body, offering herself to them...

_Eyes off of the woman's chest! Emiri has a bigger bust than that for sure! _The self-rebuke complete, Katsu moved his attention to the woman's face, and...

Something was wrong. Her eyes shone bright red. Mystic Eyes? Or was she even human?

Katsu gulped heavily, something that seemed to get Taikobo out of his stupor. His words were less than comforting. "Ugh, vampire freak doesn't know when to give up on seduction, does she, Katsuhiro?"

A nod was all the response Katsu could afford to give as he steeled myself. The woman began to change. Katsu quickly seized a nearby iron pole and tossed it like a spear into the woman's throat. His still-active Reinforcement helped the makeshift projectile brutally severe the woman's head from her body.

There was no one else in the immediate area. Katsu chanted, "Anfang, Verbrennen meine Feinde mit der Kraft von tausend sonnen!" The monster's head and body immediately underwent combustion. Blue fire burned for a quarter hour before it finally died down, leaving nothing but ashes.

While they waited, Katsu and Taikobo played a few games of cards with the Tarot deck. When the the fire had finally died down, Katsu said, "Oh look, we can get out of here now, Taikobo. The fire's gone and so is the vampire freak."

Taikobo turned his head, "Well it's about time, Katsuhiro. Don't we have a job to do at the library?"

"Ugh. Don't remind me."


	5. 18 January 1874

A young white-haired man dressed in robes from a bygone era gazed up at the small mansion before him. He walked through the thin layer of snow, up to the intricately carved double doors that served as the entrance. He shifted his elaborate walking stick from his right hand to his left, and sharply rapped twice on the door with the back of his knuckles.

In moments, the door was opened by a small, red-headed maid. She made an elaborate curtsy and wordlessly beckoned him inside. Once he entered, she shut the door, locked it, and faced the guest.

"Is there anything you wish for, Master Einzbern?" She asked with a soft voice. "Would you like some tea?"

"No, my visit will be short, and I have business to attend." The man replied in a voice as young as his face. He couldn't have been more than sixteen years old, and his snow white hair made him look even younger.

"Is your master in?" The young man asked. "I have business with him, from the Head."

The maid tilted her head and closed her eyes for a moment. "He is currently in his office, reading." She opened her eyes once more. "Please follow me, and I shall lead you to him."

The young Einzbern nodded, shifting the cane back and forth between his hands nervously. The maid walked, and the man followed her.

A few minutes later, they stopped in front of a thick wooden door. Slight noises akin to very quiet conversation could be heard inside. "Master, an emissary from the Head wishes to speak to you." She spoke slightly more loudly as she firmly knocked on the door. "Would you like me to ask him to wait until you are finished?"

Abruptly the noise halted, punctuated by a wooden thud and a series of hasty whispers. "Of all the times..." From within, someone cleared his throat, and answered with a gravelly voice. "Erm, no, I'm fine. Let him in, Anne."

Anne wordlessly opened the door. The young man hesitantly stepped inside. The maid skilfully closed the door behind him without a single sound.

"Ah, um, Herr... Adolf von Einzbern? Am I in the correct building?"

The gentleman couldn't stop himself from making that question as he took in the so called 'office' he had entered. The window was closed and the blinds shut even though it was a bright day. The antique candlestick next to the desk was blown out, leaving the room dim. The bookshelf lining the wall opposite the door was almost empty, holding perhaps a half dozen books, and from what the emissary could make out, the desk was a complete mess, with scattered paper all about, and at least one spilled ink bottle dying the white a deep black. Was this truly the office of someone the Head of Einzbern required to complete a vital mission?

"You are indeed in the correct building!" A deep, booming voice almost nothing like the previous one replied. The emissary heard a snap, and blinked as the room lit up instantly. The candlestick suddenly held a bright and cheering flame. With the added light, a new figure came into view.

Sitting behind the desk, arms crossed and eyebrow raised, was a man's upper body. But this was not just any man. This was man who would represent the Einzberns in the second Heaven's Feel, Adolf von Einzbern.

His beard was almost pure grey, but still carried faint traces of blond. His blue eyes pierced through the emissary's soul without a hint of senility. His grin was both comforting and unsettling.

"So, what does the Head want from little old me?" Adolf von Einzbern asked with a laugh. "I hardly see a reason for him to request my help, especially after what happened last time!"

"Er... Herr von Einzbern..." The emissary hesitated. Despite the other man's assurances, he secretly doubted that this old man could be someone the no-nonsense Head needed. Despite his doubts, the emissary would follow his orders. He chose his words carefully. "The Head wishes for you to represent the Einzbern family at an... event."

"Eh? Me? Are you sure?" The man frowned and shifted a little in his seat at that, but didn't move otherwise. "That doesn't sound like the Head. I'm usually not the best man to choose for matters of diplomacy."

His face lit up. "Now parties on the other hand... I can handle those."

"No, sir." The emissary sighed. "Not that kind of event. This is something quite a bit more serious than a simple celebration. This is only the second time that it will occur, and the last time ended in a matter most unsatisfactory. The Head believes that a man of your caliber would be most suited to this kind of task."

Adolf narrowed his eyes. "It's the Heaven's Feel, isn't it." It was not a question, but a statement. "He wants me to fight as a Master, doesn't he?"

"...yes." The emissary hung his head. "We... an Einzbern must compete. And we are not combat magi."

"Neither am I!" The old man rumbled. "I just happen to have some entirely unneeded experience in fighting! Am I actually the most proficient combatant of the entire family?"

"Yes." The emissary nodded. "You are the first choice. If you refuse, the Head will send Franz..."

"No, he won't." Adolf slammed a hand down on the table. "I'm not letting that pompous ass represent us! He'll get himself killed faster than a priest in the Mage's Association!"

"Then..."

"I'll do it," the old man declared. "I have some life left in me yet, boy!" He softened abruptly, and smiled. "And I've never seen a Japanese woman! I hear they're very petite. Is this true, boy?"

"I... don't know," the emissary said, slightly taken aback. "But here are the documents with all the relevant information you'll need." He removed a sheaf of papers from within his robes and held them out to the Einzbern Master.

Adolf didn't move from his seat.

"Ah, my apologies!" The young man yelped. "I forgot about your... prosthetics. You musn't be wearing them now, correct?"

"...sure, why not," Adolf said with a grin. "Just hand them to Anne, and I'll look over them later. When am I leaving?"

"Immediately," the emissary said as he opened the door. "Good luck, and may you obtain our lost miracle, Sir!" He bowed and left the room.

Moments later, Anne walked in, placed the papers upon her Master's desk, and walked out of the office again.

"Master, would you like me to put your pants back on? You seem to have lost your motivation." A half-dressed brunette maid peeked out from between Adolf's naked legs and gazed at him curiously.

"...yes, I suppose it's too late to keep going after that little interruption." Adolf sighed.

The maid began to rise, but was suddenly stopped by Adolf's hand on her head. "But..." He grinned. "That just means we'll have to start again from the beginning. Get to work, Genevieve." He pushed her head down again.

A muffled reply came instantly. "Of course, Master."


	6. 27 January 1874

Twilight in Japan, as in other places, served only to bring people off the streets to continue their activities indoors. For many, said activities took place within the doors of taverns, said activities being... well, mostly drinking, but on occasion card games or dice... while drinking.

It was really the only reason why anyone noticed the woman, as shady as she was; shady figures were common in the lower reaches of the city. Shady figures that didn't drink were not.

That was why the man wandered over with two glasses in his hand, setting them down on the table as he sat across from her. "_Pardone moi, mais, vous êtes ne Japonais pas, non? C'est difficile, etre le un occidental ici._"

The woman looked up, poked an arm out of her long overcoat and pushed back her rancher's hat, revealing a rather pretty face with green eyes framed by a bit of blonde hair.

She grinned awkwardly. "Uh, _je ne parle pas francais_?" Uncertain, she squeezed out a spot of French, tinged with a distinct shade of Texas.

At that, the man across from her perked up, delighted. He smoothed his grey suit and broke into a wide, Yankee grin - perfectly suited for his features, broad and weathered for his apparent age. "Even better, another American! So nice to talk to someone who speaks proper English." Pushing one of the glasses over with one hand, he offered her the other. "Maxwell Merryweather, at your service."

Still seeming uncertain, the woman took his hand, shook it. "Alexandra Rhineschild, at yours." Pulling back, she grabbed the glass and took a short sip.

Maxwell grinned again, leaning in a bit closer. "So, what brings a young girl like you all the way out to Japan?"

"Uh, well, my family ranches cattle, best cattle in the west, and a lot of the natives on Hawaii liked it, so Ma was wonderin' if we could sell overseas, probably fetch in more. And everyone else was too busy otherwise, so..." She shrugged, ending the Texas drawl without much of a flourish. "You seem like a gentleman. Business?"

"Guess you could say that, yeah. I got an opportunity from Russian interests in the area, so I'm here to check it out and hopefully take it up."

Alexandra raised an eyebrow and took another sip. "Russkies? How tha hell did ya meet a Russkie?"

"Oh, well, he was a retired naval officer who was traveling around, ended up in the Union a few years back and saw me in action. Made friends with him, exchanged letters, and here we are."

"In action? You an officer?"

He perked up, preening a bit. "Retired, strictly speaking, but I served for the United States Navy."

"Navy, huh..." Alexandra stared into her drink, intent on the details at the bottom of the glass.

"Yeah - was a Commander, like I said, retired a few years back."

Their conversation spiraled off from there, mostly into minor things: bits of background, how the areas of the states were doing, how exactly _did _one herd cattle... many other things, for a good few hours. Abruptly, Maxwell reached into a pocket of his suit and retrieved a pocketwatch.

"Good heavens, it's late. Alex, do you have a place to stay?"

She shook her head slowly. "No, I just got here. I was gonna find a place, hopefully somewhere cheap."

He was even more delighted than he had been at their first meeting, grinning ear to ear. "Well, you're in luck! I have a room here that's big enough for two. It's reasonably priced already, but if we split it, it'd probably be the cheapest you could get while still indoors."

Her eyes widened a bit. "I... uh..."

"Oh," he continued with a chuckle, "don't you dare think I'd do anything, I'm nowhere near that kind of man. I'm just trying to do a favor for a lady."

"Eh, alright..."

"Splendid!" Slamming his third glass down on the table, he started gesturing for the inn's owner. "Just let me arrange this." The Japanese man scurried over, responding to a string of Japanese from Maxwell.

His eyes on the proprietor, Maxwell never noticed Alexandra reach up and tap the side of her hat once with a gloved hand. "_Watashi_-"

To her, their speech suddenly garbled for a second, then transformed.

"-have a room that size, yes. For how long?"

"Just one night, please." Maxwell pressed a few coins into the man's hand and received a key in exchange. "Thank you."

He stood and spoke to her in English, offering a hand. "Shall we?"

She nodded and took it, letting him lead her up from the table. across the inn floor, and up a flight of stairs to a door. Letting her go for a second, he took the key and slipped it into the lock.

_Click-_

_Crunch._


	7. Fuyuki: Alexandra Wilcox

With a groan, Maxwell jerked awake.

He was in the room he had rented - or at least one that looked a far sight like it. It was fairly sparse: two futons on the floor, a single window, a desk and chair... not much else. More notably, his hands were bound above his head to the ceiling by some kind of rope, forcing him to stand on the balls of his feet to keep his shoulders at peace. He couldn't do anything about the aching pain in the back of his head, though. He was still mostly clothed, though his jacket was missing... because it was thrown on the desk behind Alexandra, as she stood flicking through some kind of book.

"H-hey! What the hell do you think you're doing?"

Alexandra turned around and glanced at him once before she turned her back to him again. She moved the chair and sat in it, facing him.

"That's mine!"

She'd been reading what he recognized as his personal logbook, where he kept records of all kinds of things he didn't trust to his mind.

"Oh, don't worry," she replied. "I'm just borrowing it."

The friendly Texan accent had disappeared, replaced by something not American, that was for certain. British, almost? British, with a slight hint of French? Whatever it was, it was cold. "So, magus, well... why are you _really _here? Sure as hell ain't a job offer from the Russians."

He was flabbergasted for a second. Who the hell was this? Association, Church, some kind of rival of his? Deciding on his best route, he screamed at the top of his lungs.

She let him run his voice out, unamused. "By Jingo, I thought you were terrible, but this is especially terrible. Didn't notice me, and now you didn't notice the door."

Glancing over, he saw what she meant. The door had a silvery sequence of runes floating on it, seemingly right off its surface.

"Yeah, sorry, rest of the inn can't hear shit from inside. So, wazzis, uh..." She flipped a page in his book. "Grail War thing you here for?"

He spat on the floor. "Cut me loose and go to hell, you don't fucking know who you're dealing wiaaaa-"

Alexandra snapped her fingers, cutting the end of his sentence off as he screamed in pain. The rope around his hands, already thin, suddenly turned razor sharp, biting into his wrists like some kind of great beast. Another snap returned it to normal, but the thin length was no longer just uncomfortable - it dug into and worsened new wounds.

"Well, I know I'm dealing with a former naval officer by the name of Maxwell, Union, magus, looking for a Grail, and... oh yes, tied up and at my mercy, so I wouldn't talk too big. What's going on here that ain't-" she held up the book "-in here."

Maxwell started to protest again. Alexandra raised her other hand, fingers ready to snap.

He spilled the beans. The details of the Grail War that he knew, the fact that the Russian was actually a Russian prince, a Mage's Association Lord who tipped him off to the war, expecting to receive a cut of the spoils, everything. Listening and nodding, she let him finish. Then she walked up to him and ripped open his shirt. Her hand, still in a thick leather glove, traced a pattern on his exposed chest, some kind of inscription that gleamed a dull red.

"So, where's your workshop? I see in your little book that you've arrived a few days ago, so you would have set one up by now."

He opened his mouth, only to be abruptly stopped. "On second thought, don't tell me, just take me there."

Alexandra reached up, pulled, and released the rope, which Maxwell now saw was a vicious black whip. She coiled it and hung it from her side, under her long jacket. She threw the top part of his suit at him. "Look right, at least."

Maxwell obediently arranged it to cover his chest and bleeding wrists. "I wouldn't try and split," she added. "The runes on your chest will kill you if you try to run up your Crest or get fifteen feet away from me."

Followed by Alexandra, Maxwell shuffled out of the room and down the stairs, through the now mostly empty inn common room and into a cold night. The prisoner magus led his gaoler through various winding streets and down to the harbor.

His workshop turned out to be a disarmed warship, a leftover of the Confederate Navy that his Russian associate had bought from the Union and then lent to him.

Alexandra snorted at that. "What'd you call it?"

Bristling, Maxwell replied, "_He _calls it the _Aleksandr_."

The response he got was a grunt. "Oh so fitting for Lords, to grant a ship the name of an emperor. Lead us in."

The inside of the ship was rather well laid out and distinctly Russian in flavor. Cyrillic alphabet, artwork that looked vaguely Rus, all of it would fit the story of it being Russian-owned. "Where's the crew?"

"Ashore," Maxwell replied. "They're supposed to take time off and not return for twenty days. It was determined that that would be enough."

He led Alexandra deeper, into the main cabin of the prince himself, repurposed as Maxwell's workshop. You could tell that it was fitted for royalty: glass fixtures in the ceiling, thick carpets, a massive bed...

However, it had been taken over by piles of books, clothes, all sorts of things in preparation for a mage's war. Of particular note was a casket of iron at the center of the mess. After a uick glance, Alexandra turned Maxwell around and forced him out of the room. She had a different destination in mind.

Deep inside the ship would be the brig, something she knew from previous experience. She found it without much trouble: a few dark chambers at the bottom of the boat, right on top of the keel. Unlike the rest of the ship, it seemed to not have been refitted: it was still musty and old. Presumably there was no reason to do much to it. Alexandra took the keys off a hook on the wall and pushed Maxwell into one of the cells before stepping in with him.

After shackling his wrists and ankles, she pulled a knife from the small of her back. She cut open Maxwell's jacket. The red runes dismissed themselves at her touch and with a few short movements were replaced by a bright green set directly over his heart.

"I won't kill you, if that's what you're thinking. Though... you may very well not like this." She took the shackles on his wrists in her hands and traced more green lines into them, then repeated the procedure on the chains on his feet as she created a system over his body.

Maxwell stayed silent the whole time. _An odd Lord_, she thought. Seemingly, one who believed that he ought to die like a gentleman.

She stepped out, locked the door behind her, and applied a little twitch of prana to her Crest to activate a spell.

Mouth twisted, Maxwell fell to the floor, gasping for breath. He looked up at her as he realized what she had done, why he lacked power in his limbs.

The rune system, the green carved over his body, was draining his prana stores and physical energy, leaving him weak as a babe. Not dead, as she said, but he was reduced to a battery, to be drained for additional power at will.

With a bounce in her step, Alexandra walked away.


	8. 1 February 1874: Outskirts

"Ahhhhh, so heavyyyyy."

A woman complained so cheerfully that it she seemed like she was singing. She was quite the foreign beauty, with striking red hair and a charming smile on her pretty face at all times. Her body was good, and she often joked that her assets were the kind other girls would die for. Presently those details were concealed beneath an immense black coat.

Her name was Cassandra Blake, and she was deep inside some grove far away from her current residence, a good distance from the city. She was carrying a great number of commonplace bags, some of which were quite heavy.

She put the last one in the pile. Despite her earlier complaints, she had not even broken a sweat after having carried over a hundred such bags. Rather, she seemed even more energetic than before. She set to her task with a smile so bright it made the rising sun above look like a cheap jewel. Only those who knew how to look would find the emptiness that rested behind those ever-calm black eyes.

"Now, where did I put it...? Oh right!" Her hands searched under the big coat until a certain pocket was found. She extracted a long dagger from its depths. "Hm, well... only one use left it is? Ah weeeeell."

A small, fast gesture. The dagger was thrown into the mountain of bags, and suddenly a massive fire roared. It was a magical flame of great potency, and whatever was within its area of effect would be burned completely to ashes. The blaze would soon extend to the nearby trees, and that part of the forest would vanish. But Cassandra did not wait for that to happen.

Back the way she had come, a carriage awaited, its driver staring at Cassandra with prying eyes. The man was unremarkable in every aspect, with short black hair, Japanese ethnicity and a stature shorter than Cassandra's.

The man thrust his arm towards her. It seemed like he intended to help her get into the carriage, but that impression was dispelled as prana started to circulate through his circuits, a spell already on his lips. "_Sora_-"

A geyser of blood.

The magus looked down at his body. His whole upper torso had been ripped apart; white broken bone glistened in that bloody mess. It was as if his body had meshed with the seat below, so brutal had been the invisible attack. His eyes widened at the sight. He tried to throw up, but only blood came from his mouth. The redhead stood there, smiling. Before he could even comprehend what was happening, he was dead.

Cassandra whistled as she picked up the pieces of the brutalized corpse. She threw them into the fire, taking care that only her gloves were sullied in the task. Then she took them off and tossed them into the raging flames as well.

She went back to the carriage. The gore on the seat made the whole vehicle far too suspicious, so she just let the frightened horses run away. Nobody would actually miss them. The whole area would soon be engulfed with fire, so she had to go.

If someone investigated and by pure casualty discovered some suspicious remains, well... there always existed those unfortunate enough to be caught in accidents of all kinds.


	9. 1 Feb: Tohsaka Residence

A gorgeous statue of flesh and blood stood listlessly. She stared at the circle drawn on the floor, a symbol of great magic that would soon call forth a hero from a distant past, a hero in an era that diminished such mysteries.

The statue's stance lacked excitement or fear, enough to prove that she was no longer the person she had once been. But that change had been the right decision to take. Had she stayed the same, she would have been dead by now. It was a natural conclusion: the pain that had dwelt within her heart was simply too much for her, or any woman, to bear. The head of the House of Tohsaka would have ended with a rope tied around her neck. The whole family would have fallen in disgrace soon after that. And since there would have been no heir, the Tohsaka line would have ended right there with her.

It had been the right decision.

There were no memories, no pain, no nightmares to wake her up in the middle of the night. Nothing of her personal life remained. Tohsaka Mio was no longer human; she was merely a magus.

Everything else had been taken away from her, so she clung to the only thing that had not left her: magecraft.

It was the last anchor she had to this world.

She could go back. As irreversible as this change seemed, it was not impossible for her to return to her original self. She was a woman, emotional by nature. With effort, it could be done.

But that would lead to suffering. She didn't want to go back. Everything was better this way.

That was precisely why it was painful to even look at her beautiful figure. She had accepted the one thing she hated.

She might have as well turned into a Magus Killer herself.

"It is complete." There was no sense of achievement; the words were as hollow as she was. She walked up to the circle drawn on the floor and corrected herself. "Almost."

Several jewels were arranged within the circle. She did not own a catalyst that would summon a specific hero, so she would use pure power to bring forth a powerful hero.

She picked up one of the jewels and moved it half a centimeter to the left, aligning it perfectly with the others. A magus could not afford to make any mistakes.

Mio stood and began the ritual of summoning.

_"A base of silver and steel. A foundation of stone and the Archduke of Contracts. The ancestor is my great master Schweinorg._

_"A wall to block the falling wind. The gates of all four directions close. From the Crown, come forth and follow the forked road to the Kingdom_

_"Fill, fill, fill, fill, fill._

_"Repeat five times._

_"Destroy each when filled."_

The violence of power lashed out at her as her Crest clawed at her nerves. Agony skewered every bone in her body as a great mystery threatened to rip her apart, soul first. She paid it no heed. There was only the incantation and the summoning.

_"――――I hereby propose._

_"My will shall create thy body, and thy sword shall create my fate._

_"Abiding by the summons of the Holy Grail, if thou dost accede to this will, this reason, answer me._

_"I hereby swear._

_"I will be all that is good in the eternal world._

_"I will be the disposer of evil in the eternal world._

_"Thou, the seven days clad with the Great Trinity, come forth from the circle of constraint, O Guardian of the Heavenly Scales ―――!"_

A flash of light, the feeling of hellfire in her right hand, and _she_ appeared.

"I have heard thy call, so I ask of thee, art thou the one who hath called for my aid? Are thou my Master?"

Her long black hair looked softer than silk.

Her white and slender body was worthy of the gods.

The fine dress and golden ornaments she wore signified her status as royalty.

Her charming eyes knew no sin.

_"_...yes. I am the magus who summoned you. I am the one you will be addressing as Master_."_

Yes, the Servant she had called forth was undeniably beautiful. Yet Tohsaka Mio rejected that beauty beyond comparison with a single exchange of words. Nothing would change the fact that this would be nothing more than a relationship between lord and vassal. The Tohsaka Magus would be in control the entire time, and the Heroic Spirit summoned would do what she had agreed to do: serve her Master.

The Command Seals burned with greater intensity as the contract between the two of them was deemed complete, sealing their fates. The mark engraved in her skin followed a simple pattern: three flames that together created a big fire. What it represented was obvious: The erasure of the past and the start of a new journey. It fit her perfectly.

"Now then, your first order, Servant," Tohsaka said as she showed the Command Seals to the Heroic Spirit, the sign of the authority she had over her, "is to identify yourself. Name, Class, Skills, Noble Phantasms... I want to know everything."

The Servant complied. She pacifically explained everything. Tohsaka listened without interruption.

"A Saber would have been ideal, but I can't complain. Your abilities are certainly impressive."

Getting a Caster meant Tohsaka would need to make more use of tactics rather than the pure brute force she usually would have employed. In the end, that did not matter. She'd had a lot of time to prepare for this war, both mentally and physically, and had developed ways to adapt her style to any of the seven Servant classes.

Even so, she couldn't ignore the fact that there were at least three classes that could reduce the effectiveness of Caster's spells. Chances were that her Servant would be overwhelmed in a battle against Saber, Archer or Lancer. Then again, she could always kill their respective Masters before that happened.

"Caster." Tohsaka Mio was ready to issue her next order. "Night will come in a few hours. I want us to be ready by then. Turn this house into your temple, create your familiars, and find some method we can use to survey Fuyuki. As Servant Caster, you can do at least that, correct?"

"Yes, I believe that is within my power. If that is what you desire, then I shall do my best to accomplish this task. Would you care to accompany me?"

"No," Tohsaka said coldly. "I have other business to attend to."

With that, the Master of Caster left.


	10. 1 Feb: Matou Residence

The basement seemed to be perpetually shrouded in a green haze.

_Crunch. Crunch. Crunch._ The sound of worms voraciously devouring flesh and bone. It was impossible to tell what creature these slabs of meat came from, as they had been chewed beyond recognition and covered in slimy secretions.

At the center of this shadowy sanctum, Matou Zouken busily inscribed a magic circle.

"Ahh… my child, you have great potential. If I had just found you a few years earlier, you would have grown into a peerless magus. Unfortunately, this is the best we can do in a year and a half."

Zouken lifted his head and smiled at the child huddling in the corner. The child stared back.

"But, Sergei, I have faith in your abilities. With a little support from me, no one shall stand in your way." Zouken dipped his staff into a puddle of body fluid released by a tangle of dead worms and put the finishing touches onto the magic circle. "We will summon your Servant."

The child stared blankly at Zouken with glazed eyes.

"Don't be afraid. It will do everything you say. You will be best friends in no time."

The child hugged his legs tighter. He was thin. No, that would be an understatement. He was a set of skeleton wrapped in skin. Something pulsed rhythmically as he moved his arms, but it was not from his blood vessels. The worms were growing restless from starvation. They were tunneling throughout the child's body attempting to feed.

"Come, Sergei. Stand in the center of the circle." Zouken poked at the child's ribs and nudged him forward.

Without a word, the child stood up and slowly walked into the centre of the circle. However, he knew not to brush against the lines engraved by Zouken, since that would earn him another beating.

"Excellent. Let us begin, Sergei."

There was a whistling sound as Zouken quickly slashed his staff twice against the child's back. Immediately, crimson blood began to ooze from the wounded flesh. The child almost fell from the force, but soundlessly managed to regain his footing.

As a small puddle of blood began to accumulate beneath Sergei's feet, Zouken started the ritual.

"A base of silver and steel. A foundation of stone and the Archduke of Contracts. The ancestor is my great master Schweinorg.

"A wall to block the falling wind. The gates of all four directions close. From the Crown, come forth and follow the forked road to the Kingdom

"Fill, fill, fill, fill, fill.

"Repeat five times.

"Destroy each when filled."

"I hereby propose.

"My will shall create thy body, and thy sword shall create my fate.

"Abiding by the summons of the Holy Grail, if thou dost accede to this will, this reason, answer me.

"I hereby swear.

"I will be all that is good in the eternal world.

"I will be the disposer of evil in the eternal world."

Zouken's vision whited out. He knew the Fifth Element was before him. _Now is the time. Now is the time to speak the forbidden words._ Tampering with the summoning ritual was the taboo of the taboo in a Heaven's Feel, but as the head of one of the Three Houses and the crafter of the Command Spells, Zouken held the secret that could bend the system in his favor without suffering backlash.

At least, that was what he hoped.

_This is not the time to doubt. _At the top of his lungs, he shouted.

"Yet, thou serves with thine eyes clouded in chaos. Thou, who art trapped in the cage of madness. I am he who commands those chains.

"Thou, the Seven Heavens clad with the Great Trinity, come forth from the circle of constraint, O Guardian of the Heavenly Scales!"

Zouken felt his left hand burn like the agony of damnation had been branded into his flesh with mercilessly hot iron. His eyes could see nothing as the Servant responded to his call. For several terrifying heartbeats, he waited.

Finally, he regained his vision, and stared at the three Command Spells in his left palm. _It is done._

A hulking giant stood face to face with Sergei at the centre of the magic circle. It was a mountain of a man clad in a suit of grey armor that covered him from head to toe. The giant trembled; his armor rattled in the same rhythm.

_This is not good._

The giant bellowed. It was the sound a bull might make as it was eaten alive.

"Load, Command Spell!"

The giant began to swing his arm towards Sergei with enough force to leave his pawn in the same state as the bugs that had been crushed to create the circle.

"By the power vested in me through the Grail, as First Master of this Heaven's Feel-"

The child stared at the giant.

"I command thee, Berserker, thou shalt not go mad without my order!"

A blaze of light erupted from Zouken's left hand. Thus was the miracle of the Command Spell unleashed.

The giant froze, his fist inches away from Sergei's face. As if it were being washed out, the grey hue began to slowly fade away from his armor. In the fading light of the magic circle, the armor gleamed.

Zouken sighed, turned around and began to walk out of the basement.

From beneath the helmet, a deep, husky voice bellowed out, "I ask of thee, art thou my Master?"

The head of the Matous turned to watch. For a long heartbeat, the boy merely stared.

"...yes. ...yes, I am your master..."

The boy's voice was hoarse, a grating and raspy ruin due to the lack of use he had for his own vocal chords - though the bugs crawling all around inside his body likely did not help either.

Falling silent again, the child went back to a crouching position and awaited a response from the giant. The boy was a good pawn. All he did, he did for Zouken and the Matou family. That was all there was to his life. Zouken turned and left.


	11. 1 Feb: Yamanashi Household

Katsuhiro readied himself for the ritual. He had drawn the circle just an hour ago, and had spent the time since searching for any minor flaws. He had discovered three in the time since, an unwelcome surprise he could have done without. Katsuhiro fixed the circle and inspected it in minute detail..

It had been a surprise when the holy symbol appeared on his hand. He hadn't even known about the Holy Grail War until just yesterday, when a strange familiar carrying a scroll had appeared on his doorstep. The information had astonished him.

When he had discovered what he had been chosen for, he had spent an hour in silent thought, weighing the benefits and drawbacks of the whole thing. The silent contemplation enabled him to know what to expect. Even then, the benefits far outweighed the drawbacks. To have a single wish granted, no matter what it was...

He had immediately thought of the ongoing vampire attacks that Taikobo and himself had done their best to deal with discreetly. If he could use to the Grail to grant any one wish, then surely...?

The preparations complete, Katsuhiro began the ceremony. He chanted the ritual in German, as it was the language of his magecraft. His Magic Circuits screamed through his nerves as they labored to supply the ritual even as he used the mana in the air for the summoning itself.

"Das Material ist aus Silber und Eisen. Der Grundstein ist aus Stein und dem Großherzog des Vertrag. Der Ahn ist mein großer Meister Schweinorg.

"Schutz gegen einen heftigen Wind. Schließ alle Tore, geh aus der Krone, zirkulier die Gabelung nach dem König.

"Füll, füll, füll, füll, füll.

"Es wird fünfmal wiederholt.

"Nur ist es die volle Zeit gebrochen.

"－Satz.

"Du überläßt alles mir, mein Schicksal überläßt alles deinem Schwert.

"Das basiert auf dem Gral, antwort wenn du diesem Willen und diesem Vernunftgrund folgst.

"Liegt das Gelübde hier. Ich bin die Güte der ganzen Welt. Ich bin das Böse der ganzen Welt.

"Du bist der Himmel mit dreien Wortseelen. Komm, aus dem Kreis der Unterdrückung, der Schutzgeist der Balkenwaage－!"

As the Imaginary Fifth Element came into play, vision was lost. The spell hit its crescendo. He felt more than saw the execution of the promise within the scroll.

A voice rang out, deep and powerful. "I ask of thee, art thou my Master?"

A miracle had been performed.

Slowly, his eyes recovered so that he could take in the true wonder of what the ritual had brought forth. Almost two meters in height, his physique was large and robust, his skin a light tan. Beneath the light plate armor that covered his torso, he wore ornate robes. His quiver was slung over his back, filled with arrows, while his hair was a dark black.

Katsuhiro stared at the one that was from this moment onward his Servant. The sheer majesty of what the Holy Graily had accomplished so overwhelmed him that he nearly forgot to answer the question.

Belatedly, he said, "Yes, I am, oh mighty Servant." Katsu hastily demonstrated the proof, the red symbols on the back of his right hand, the Command Spells. "What class, might I ask, are you?"

A loud harrumph. "Then the contract is complete. In this Holy Grail War, I have been summoned into the Archer class."

Archer stepped out of the summoning circle and moved within arm's reach of his Master. The giant stared down at him.

"I did not expect that the one who would summon me would be so young. Still, that is no cause for concern. I shall prove more than adequate in vanquishing your foes, for I could not imagine a better archer than I."

Striding past him, Archer began to walk towards the exit of the basement. He looked over his shoulder and asked, "Are you not going to show me around your workshop, magus?"

Dismay filled Katsu's chest. His original cunning scheme had been to summon the Servant out of sight of his old man, hence why he had chosen to conduct the ritual in the underground storage of the house, but he had obviously not thought matters through completely.

_Can't be helped_.

Katsu headed over to the door and opened it for Archer. "Please, follow me to my workshop... which is technically where I sleep while I live in this house."


	12. 1 Feb: Romanova Workshop?

Katerina looked at the circle, proud of her efforts. She had wasted a _teensy_ bit of blood, but she could fix that.

Her bodyguards had been stationed at entirely different buildings to draw attention away from her. Two of them were _ordinary_. The other two were magi and had set up a pair of workshops as fallback positions.

She was in one of those right now, since her own workshop too precious to risk over a summoning. Katerina also believed Papa was right and that one should never put all their eggs in one basket.

Nikolai let out a loud growl.

"Hush, hush, Nikolai. I'll be done soon, so you can eat, okay?" she said with a smile. Nikolai was her best friend, after all. Any displeasure he felt, she wanted to remedy.

She recited the chant mechanically. This was just a way of getting another tool, so she could go home and quit doing tests. So she could curl up in her papa's lap and not have to worry about the next day. So she could bury her face in her mama's bosom and feel loved.

There was pain and light and power. Katerina clutched her stuffed animal closer, a present from her mother. The young magus closed her eyes as she chanted. At last, the ritual, and _something _was in the room with her.

Katerina opened her eyes... and grinned.

Her Servant knelt before her. He wore a tabard over bright chainmail, a vibrant red cloak draped over his shoulders. His left hand held his silver helmet, while his right bore a golden shield. There was pride in his bearing, a certain dignity that built on a slight air of roguishness. He was strong. She could tell.

He straightened and met her gaze. "I ask of thee, in accordance with my summoning, art thou my Master?"

"Ah? Why are you looking at me? Nikolai is the one who did it!" Katerina pointed to the bear. Suddenly the center of attention, he let out a huge grunt and began to amble up the stairs of the basement.

"See? He wants you to get him some food." Katerina cheerily said as she walked after Nikolai. "Hurry, or he'll get away!"

Her Servant called out to her. "I can plainly see the marks of our contract on the back of your hand, Master. Unless the bear is in a joint partnership with you for that..."

"Of course! Me and Nikolai do everything together!" Mah, her Servant was no fun. He could've at least maintained the illusion of playing along. "You just can't see Nikolai's Command Seals because he has so much fur."

They walked all the way to the kitchen, where a lone magus stood. The dining table was covered with plates of exquisite delicacies, a feast fit for the czar himself. Nikolai immediately scooped up an entire plate in his mouth and devoured it all.

"Nikolai! You're supposed to sit and eat!" Katerina scolded. The bear obediently sat in a chair. Katerina did so as well and began eating.

"This is nice, Pyotr!"

The magus nodded at being addressed before he sat down himself.

"As for you, Servant..."

Katerina pouted at her Servant. If only she had summoned someone more fun...

"What's your class? And none of us mind if you want a bite, otherwise Nikolai will eat your share." The bear was devouring everything around him, reaching over the table for another meal.

The armored man looked at her calmly. "I have been summoned under the Class 'Saber', an apt name and rightly abrupt name." He paused a bit, his eyes scanning the room. His gaze flicked to the food before they settled on her again. "I don't require food, Master, nor drink. So I have to ask, is it alright for me to eat and drink alongside you and your...companion? I know not how much wealth you have available, whether in money or supplies, and I sorely do not want to waste any of it."

Katerina's spoon fell out of her hands. "You don't need to worry about anything, Saber. Our adventures are financed by Russia's royal family, the Romanovs. To refuse their hospitality is like refusing Russia's!" she said cheerfully. "As my Servant, you should be allowed the finest Russia can offer."

Nikolai abruptly stopped and began moving towards her. Katerina went back to eating.

"Since we're going to eat, I hope, we should discuss your identity."

Saber told her his name and spoke of his legend. She smiled again.

Hours later, in the inky darkness of night, Katerina reflected on what she had done today. One of the magi had made a suitable map of the city for her, as she stayed and chatted with her Servant. They could go out prowling the next night. It would be fairly predictable, but drawing out a poor Master for the chopping block was what she had in mind. She had Saber, after all, and there was no way she could lose with a hero as famous as hers.

She turned her eyes from the sleeping Nikolai to Saber, sitting in a chair in front of her.

"Saber, would you do anything to win? And by anything..." she smiled at him. "I truly mean anything."

Her Servant was quiet for a few heartbeats. He sighed. "When it all comes down to it, Master, I do not want to draw innocents into the battles that we must go through to win this war. That is all. When it is all said and done, this is not a tournament for honor or prestige, nor is this a game to be played among young children. This is a battle with lives on the line...yours, Nikolai's, and mine included. I will do whatever I can to win this war by your side"

Saber paused and met her glare directly. "However, I will have to refuse harming the innocent or being unable to protect them if given the opportunity." Those dark eyes became very sharp. "Don't mistake this as the fanciful dreams of a man still stuck in the fantasies of youth, though. I have fought in wars and battles before, against men and savages alike. Thousands have died at my orders on the battlefield and I have killed many who would have been Heroic Spirits had they but defeated me."

Katerina pouted. Her Servant was soft. He may have been a mighty warrior, but he was soft.

"Saber, this is a war of magi. True magi have no friends, they have temporary allies, enemies, and tools! A real magi would never be so close to anyone, because people are a liability! Magi are ruthless, Saber. Any weakness that can be used against you will be used. That is why I can't truly say that I won't harm innocents! If a magi has friends, family, or allies, I will strike them down for the sake of crippling their minds. An association with a Master no longer renders them 'innocent.' This is a war with only one rule; as long as we do not break the masquerade, anything goes. And I will make sure I win, even if it requires the most underhanded and immoral of tricks."

Katerina glared at Saber. If he truly was a man of the battlefield, he should know that she was right. To achieve victory meant using every advantage, no matter the morality.


	13. 1 Feb: The Aleksandr

Alexandra had spent the better part of the night going through Maxwell's documents and books, familiarizing herself with his effects, accounts, and plans. A single wish, any wish...

It sounded good to her- rather good. The kind of opportunity that came about once in a lifetime. She certainly had something to ask for.

"_Der Ahn ist meiner größer Meister Schweinorg_... 'The ancestor is mine biggest master Schweinorg?'"

Provided the incantation was right.

The procedure for the ritual had been in Maxwell's book, the language German for whatever reason. Part blessing, part curse: it was one of the languages that she could read and pronounce, but she was nowhere near what could be considered properly fluent in. It would do, but...

"_Zirkulier die Gabelung..._ 'Circulate the forking?'"

With an exasperated shake of her head, Alexandra stood up, stashed the book in her pocket, and left the cabin. She made her way over to the ship's brig and peered inside. Maxwell still lay on the ground, but otherwise seemed in adequate condition. She unlocked the door and ventured in. "Apologies: I did say I wasn't going to be harming you, but..."

Grabbing his wrist, she took a close look at his hand. Faint lines, like old scars, crossed its back, indistinct but as described by his own research.

"This is slightly necessary." Alexandra touched a finger to his hand.

His back arched, mouth open in a silent scream as the embryonic Seal was ripped from his hand. She winced as magical energy worked its way into her body and wrapped around the back of her shoulder.

Luckily, more for him, it didn't last long: Alexandra could deal with it, but he, she sensed, had greater difficulties. In the Seal, she could feel... loose ends, attached bits of magic that shouldn't be there. His nerves, probably, still dripping with prana. Must have hurt.

Not that she really cared, but it would be unfortunate if he died.

A magic circle was engraved in a separate room, seeming specifically laid out for the ritual. Geometric, not linguistic as she was used to, but it would do. With everything prepared as Maxwell's notes dictated, she read out the incantation and ignored the unpleasantness of such powerful magecraft.

Blinding light enveloped the room, filling every hidden crack and space. Alexandra reflexively closed her eyes. The faint smell of light rain, tall, unkempt grass and heady wine all mixed together emanated from the center of the summoning circle. A hero has been called.

When she could see again, she saw him. A tall man, dressed in old furs covered in part by leather and metal armour, and a helmet of similar make tight on his head. His big, bushy eyebrows almost hid his narrow eyes from view as he opened his eyes. From the back of his helm could be seen the very edge of his long, thick mane of hair. His muscles stood out, tough and rugged and covered in scars, barely concealed by his surprisingly elegant silk coat. He was at once the picture of barbarism and of royalty.

There was just one problem. Why in the devil would _she_ summon an... _Asiatic _Servant? Befuddling.

He took a step forward, his heavy boots thudding on the thin wooden floor. He seemed strong. In relative terms. His gaze met hers.

"Thou art my Master, art thou not?" A wild grin crossed his face; his calloused hand extended without delay.

"Hmmm. I presume so." Alexandra dropped her coat off her back and dragged down her shirt enough to show him the back of her right shoulder. A mass of writhing red lines, like an unbeatable wind rushing forward to destroy, marred her perfect white flesh. "These would agree. So, what class are you in?"

_Let it be something useful, please. This is already undesirable. _

The Servant beat his chest with laughter. Laughter!

"Ahaha, I am Rider! Our foes will tremble before us like the petals on a flower, struck by the harsh wind of the plains." He brought his fist back up, clenched tight. He nodded his head at her and wrinkled his brow a little. "Tell me, girl, do you have a name? I hope it isn't too hard to pronounce."

_How... barbaric_. Alexandra rearranged her clothing and silently started to fume. Of all the heroes, she had drawn some crude savage, suited for huts on the steppe? "Alexandra," she curtly answered his question. "Do you know where we are? Your position in the world?" Allegedly, the Grail would orient the Servant, but, it was suspect - assume nothing.

Rider mumbled her name a few times before he nodded. "We are in the East!" he declared emphatically. "I can smell it in the air, you see. The tinge of salt, the rolling air over the curves of the land... without question, girl, we are in the East."

Her Servant stretched like a cat in the sun before he returned his beady little eyes to her and straightened his posture. "If I'm not mistaken, girl, you've called me here because you needed aid with a war. War, you see... is my business. My life, even."

_He... _smells _a location?_ Alexandra raised an eyebrow at that. She had been in plenty of dockyards, and this, like all others, mostly just smelled of fish, salt, and grease. Bluster, she presumed - the Grail gives knowledge, and one wants to show it off in the most impressive way possible. S_o, a dose of ego. Could be worse, strength of personality is acceptable_.

"Your life? So, tell me, can you change? War's changed - what is your ideal, combat of champions?" Alexandra moved over to a long crate she'd pulled up from the hold. Maxwell had come prepared, at least in certain ways. Prying it open, she threw aside a layer of packing and lifted out its contents.

Fusil Gras, 1874. He had certainly been planning for quality: she'd only seen a few of them before, all in the hands of a French Foreign Legion company. Plenty more cases like it in the hold, all outfitted with ammunition... quite the supplement. "Champions die fast," she added. "So, ya'll ready to make a war, ya say?"

He laughed at her. Laughed at _her_. "Girl, I fought with armies trampling across everything in sight. Those who obeyed me - I spared. Those who did not - I killed without mercy. Not a single force ever mustered could stop me, no matter where I marched."

"Oh? Did you burn the lands? Raze their fields and towns?" It sounded familiar, and not in the good kind. Only a decade ago... "How... _uncouth_. But in this case, it'll do."

Rider rested his chin in his hand, thoughtful. "You're lucky I was brought into this land, of all places. I know it well; the sights, the sounds and the smells are all relevant to me, and even the tilt of the sea below us feels so... familiar."

Alexandra said nothing as she reached into a pile of papers and retrieved a map of the city and surrounding area Maxwell had brought with him. She spread it out on the table. "That is to our benfit, then. We shall think. We are here, on a boat." She placed a finger on the harbor, indicating the _Aleksandr's _pier. "Suggest to me what you believe the best strategy would be at this time, general."

"Hmmm..." Alexandra watched Rider scratch at his wispy beard as he went over the wrinkled papers she showed him. "At the moment, would should focus on familiarizing ourselves with the area. We can ride about on horseback - such a thing shouldn't be unusual in this day and age, should it? - and make sure that we know the lay of the land. That way, when the time comes, we can adapt our tactics to the terrain at hand with a good deal of forethought."

He jabbed a rough finger against the centre of the map, indicating the city proper, and traced the main arteries of the town, a residential and seafaring locale. "First amongst all things, when we survey the environs of this town, we must keep stealthy and look for enemy Servants and their Masters. We shouldn't be dealing with them yet, not in combat, since we can't be sure as to the pragmatism of these opponents of ours."

Rider looked at her, no longer staring at the map in thought. "Some final notes: in wars where each side has similar power, often it will become a contest of who can outlast the others, and win through attrition. Since heroes take their power from their Noble Phantasms, it would be best for me to only show my true power when absolutely necessary, or to make sure that my magical energy stores are maximized on every occasion. Also, once we learn more about the Masters opposing us, it may be a good idea to ally with those _native_ to this land. A union, even tenuous, will benefit us, and if we work well we can make sure that we gain more than they do. After all, it's important for us to understand this place, our battlefield, so that we can fight on equal or better terms."

Alexandra pursed her lips. Ally with _natives_? This association was going to be... _difficult_.


	14. 1 Feb: Blake Workshop

Cassandra stood before the circle in the basement. The verses had been chanted. Her hand burned as power invaded the room. Had her catalyst worked? She hoped so, after all the time it had taken to get that damned thing.

The sublime existence overwhelmed her. Cassandra opened her eyes. How would her Servant be like?

The smoke that surrounded her vision and filled her senses was about as much an obstacle to her sight as a sheet of glass. The ice-blue eyes that rotated in their sockets scanned the room casually, taking in the scene for the first, familiar time. One pale hand that has only just realized it exists lifts itself, feeling the touch of material against its skin as it sweeps to one side, gathering the air within her cloak like a fan and creating a breeze strong enough to dissipate the smoke in an instant.

Darkness and silver were her colors. Leather the color of night supplemented silver buckles and a studded hauberk that concealed the shape of her slim, feminine figure. Her slender arms and legs were gilded with silver vambraces and greaves while her hands were protected by black gloves. Silver pauldrons bore a cloak and hood of pure midnight, shrouding her features from sight, and shadows almost seem to flicker at the heels of her high leather boots.

Her Servant raised her hands, lifted back the hood of her cloak and unveiled her features.

She was pale, pallid even, yet not inhumanly so. Rather, it was a white beauty akin to snow or the full moon, like a being stepped from another realm into this one. Her features were sharp and angular, yet seem to blend together in a flawless display of perfection that would turn every woman within the vicinity green. A white diamond graced with a waterfall of black hair like ravens feathers, a beauty among beauties, tempered like steel with ancient agelessness and sublime enchantment. Her nose was small, white hill perched above a rose, as her lips moved slightly with the controlled breathing of a warrior.

_Strong. Good._

That was her first impression upon seeing the beauty of a Servant. Just her presence was enough to tell that the catalyst had been successful, that the correct Heroic Spirit had received her call. Things were starting well enough.

"I ask of thee, art thou my Master?

Her voice was quiet, yet embodied intimidating force. Any other human would have been impressed. They would have cowered, flinched, or stepped back, shown reverence, _something. _

Cassandra only showed her always present cheerful smile, as if this was an everyday thing, unaffected by the power that now flooded the room. Her answer maintained its singsong constancy. "Yes. I am your Master!"

With that, Cassandra showed her right arm. There, burning red, was a tattoo composed of various lines and curves that vaguely resembled a bat with its two wings. Her sleeveless shift did nothing to conceal her thin and lithe frame and simply made the Command Seals stand out even more.

Her Servant stepped forward. The tinkling of mail and the rustle of cloth followed her out of the summoning circle. She raised one arm, the right, her armor dissolving in a shimmer of dark, butterfly-like particles that scattered into the air briefly like fireworks before vanishing into blackness. Gently, as if she were expecting her hand to pass straight through her face, her Servant brought her hand carefully against Cassandra's face.

"So cold and hollow:  
A doll-like existence.  
Smiling whilst dying?"

The smile on her Servant's face was sad, small, her expression filled with a sense of incomprehensible longing. Cassandra remained unfazed, her smile not wavering on the slightest. She understood that the poem was about her, and it was somewhat... good that her Servant had got more insight on her in a single glance than most high level magi could in a thousand tries. For someone to see on the depths of darkness in her eyes like that was a first.

However, to tell the truth, she did not care in the slightest. Her Servant could wax poetry all day for all she cared, as long as there were results. Her first impression of her had been of strength, but it was time to expand on that, to know her capabilities and to see just how much they would get along in combat. That insight she had displayed already announced a good compatibility between them.

"Now, my beautiful and strong Servant, may I inquire as to your class and abilities, Noble Phantasms included?"

The beautiful wraith spoke again, her voice, gentle, calm, yet filled with the steadfast determination of someone willing to move Heaven and Earth should need require it.

"I am your Servant, summoned by the Holy Grail under the Class of Lancer. For as long as I serve at your side, my spear shall always be at your service."

Lancer withdrew her hand and spoke very briefly about her identity. It was enough.

Cassandra had truly drawn the best possible card in this Holy Grail War. She did not really believe in luck, but to get a Servant so compatible with her was something akin to a small miracle. Furthermore, knowing who the Heroic Spirit in front of her was, Cassie already had a pretty good guess on at least one of her Noble Phantasms, if only judging from her sole comment on the matter.

She was pleased, or at least as pleased as an empty doll like her could be. It was reflected on her outside, but her heart remained immutable and cold. In less than two seconds, a new plan had been traced, and Cassandra was on the move.

First, she extracted a piece of paper out of her pocket, and showed it to Lancer. "It is a map of this residence. Memorize it, then destroy it. The quantity and quality of traps littering this place might trouble even to a Servant such as you."

Once Lancer was done memorizing the map and had erased its existence, Cassandra gave her new instructions. "Go to the den. On a table there, I have a detailed map of Fuyuki that you will do well to inspect. Meanwhile, I'll transport our supplies there. That room is to serve as our main headquarters in this war."

Although her voice and face were as cheerful as ever, her tone carried a firmness that it hadn't before, making it clear that she was serious. Cassandra did not even wait for Lancer to obey as she moved to a certain sealed room in her workshop. She grabbed two enormous crates with ease and carried them to the living room. She would need to take three more trips.

During one of those trips, her stare casually fell on the Command Seals on her hand. There was that _feel _again.

Cassandra's face tried to frown, but all it managed was a distorted smile. It had been so long since the last time she had made another expression that she had forgotten how to even frown.

That one _feel._ She had felt the same thing when the bruises appeared suddenly on her arm. Then the invitation had come. How she was one of the chosen.

At that moment, Cassandra Blake, who had not felt anything during uncountable years felt _curiosity_. And that was enough. That same curiosity pushed her to take a leave of absence from her duties for the Clock Tower, to start the chase for the catalyst that would hopefully assure her victory, and finally had taken her here, to this city and this war.

Why? Why had the Holy Grail chosen her? She had no wish she could think of. She had no desire. She was not dissatisfied with her empty life. She did not have any drive to improve her existence. So why?

Why had she been chosen?

Cassandra Blake would fight in this war until she found an answer to that single impulse of curiosity she felt.


	15. 1 Feb: Einzbern Castle

"Master, it's time for you to perform the summoning ritual, as you arranged." A maid unceremoniously flung open the blinds on Adolf's room, sending sunlight over his closed eyes.

"Aah!" He sat up in bed suddenly, flailing his arms wildly. "Okay, okay, I'm going, I'm going! Just turn down the lights, it's too bright!"

"You'll get used to it, Master." The black-haired maid pushed her spectacles up her nose with one finger and sniffed. "New girl, I'll forgive it since you _are _new, but don't let Master grab on to you and fall asleep. He won't let go until he's awake again. Unfortunately for you, we still need you to do your housekeeping, so do try to finish your tasks before you fall asleep as well."

The prim maid marched over to Adolf's bed and threw the covers off with one elegant swipe, revealing the naked forms of both Adolf and the latest homunculus.

"Eep!" Both Adolf and the new maid quickly grabbed a large pillow and covered themselves hastily, Adolf moving slightly slower due to his prosthetics and age.

"Come now, get dressed." The bespectacled maid was merciless.

"Hey, maybe you could cut her some slack, Agatha." Adolf mumbled as he yawned. "She is new, after all."

Adolf glanced over at the new maid, only a few days old. She had short black hair, was very petite, and possessed unmistakable Japanese features. Her design was deliberate: Adolf was not fond of the Justica-type, and prefered much more variety in his diet, so to speak. He also didn't speak a word of Japanese, whereas his new maid, Emiko, had been born with it as standard vocabulary. That, combined with her Oriental features, would allow her to function as his translator and spy.

"Or maybe you could do your job properly for once, Master." Agatha sniffed. "You get dressed as well. If you are to summon a Servant, we can't have you looking like you were scraped off the roads." She glared at her Master until he began to put his clothes on.

"And as for _you_." Agatha looked at Emiko, who was still blushing and looking everywhere but her superior's eyes. "Get your uniform on and report to Anne for your next assignment. She'll walk you through the ropes." The older maid handed her junior a fresh uniform, and the naked girl quickly ran into the next room to change.

"...why do I even keep you around?" Adolf yawned again, fully clothed after a minute of fumbling around.

"Because without me your house would fall to ruins within a week, Master," Agatha said. "That'll do. Follow me. I've had Kani set up the circle already, so all you need to do is say the lines to summon your Servant." She opened the door once more and led her half-asleep Master through the mansion.

When Adolf finally opened his eyes properly, he found himself in his workshop. It looked the same as it always did, but this time a large space had been cleared in the middle, where a complex magic circle was drawn.

A dark-skinned maid stood nearby, and she bowed slightly as her Master entered the room. "The circle is complete." She said softly. "You only need say the words."

"Ah, yes, the words..." Adolf mumbled as he desperately tried to force his tired mind to remember the correct invocation.

"You did practice as I told you to, didn't you?" Agatha asked sharply. Adolf shivered as he felt her cold gaze upon him.

"O-of course! I'm just warming up, that's all!"

Adolf force himself to straighten his back, and spoke clearly and solidly.

_"Silver and iron..."_

And then he mumbled some stuff about gates and kingdoms and shutting and oaths.

_"and... um... O keeper of the balance!"_

The circle glowed. A bright blue light sprang from the magic design. The prana of a creature beyond mortality materializing.

The glow of a Servant being summoned.

Adolf was almost blown back, and it was only Agatha's hand on his back that kept the man from falling. For what seemed like an endless moment the sharp wind blew, but then it abruptly stopped almost as quickly as it had started.

There, in the centre of the circle, knelt a figure. A Servant.

His first thought was disappointment.

The dark cloak and lack of any sort of armor or blade made it painfully obvious that whatever he had summoned was most definitely not a Saber. Judging from the hidden face and lean muscles, the Servant was... an Assassin.

An Assassin, the lowliest of classes. Weakest of the Servants, unable to even fight on par with its opponents most of the time. A sneaking coward that could only strike from the shadows at defenceless Masters. In short, a disappointment.

For five full minutes Adolf looked over his Servant, shame and disappointment colouring his mind. Still, his face was set in a stony frown, and his eyes remained fixed on the form of his Servant.

Adolf's disappointment only lasted until his Servant opened its mouth.

"Ḥashshāshīn."

That voice... Adolf had seen battle. For an Einzbern, he was the most experienced magus when it came to fighting in general. He'd won battles, and lost them. He'd borne the pain of losing limbs, and of killing his first human being. He'd steeled his heart and walked with death in the road to being a magus.

But all of that paled to the sheer killing history of the man before him.

Murder. Slaughter. Evisceration. Poisoning. Paralyzation. Suffocation. Asphyxiation. Decapitation. Defenestration. Annihilation. Destruction. Termination. Extermination. Eradication. Massacre. Terrorism. Butchery. Killing. Death.

Assassination.

Before Adolf stood a killer. One who had lived a life of bringing death to others. If a magus walked beside death, then an Assassin danced with it. The man before Adolf was no weakling. He was a hardened destroyer of lives, one who had transformed killing into an art form. One who had perfected it. Assassin's height and size only served to strengthen his image as a dangerous killer, as if it had been calculated to strike fear into people.

The shrouded figure's right hand moved up, adjusting his hood slightly to reveal a grinning skull mask, and the voice once again broke the silence.

"Thou... art my Master?"

The only emotions one could feel when facing such a person were fear, or respect.

Adolf grinned.

"Aye." He said. "I'm your Master, Assassin. You have been summoned by Adolf von Einzbern to fight a War for the Holy Grail. For the chance to make your deepest wish come true. For the chance to capture a miracle."

He stretched out his right, good arm towards the dark man. "Will you serve as my blade, Assassin? Will you strike down our enemies? Will you seek the Grail alongside me?"

"Shall we win this war, my Servant?"

Assassin did not move. Finally, the Servant extended his right arm reached grasped Adolf's good hand and shook it firmly.

"My failures in life number zero. A war such as this will not affect that count."

The Servant withdrew back into himself and studied his surroundings, a good assassin to his core. "...Master, how many non-combatants are here with you?"

"If you are speaking of those who are incapable of fighting..." Adolf began. "Then none. Of all the people here, however, I would be called the weakest in terms of combat ability, if such a thing matters."

It was a hesitation that came out without hesitation. It wouldn't do to lie to his Servant, and it was true. Despite Adolf's prestigious heritage, the Einzbern were not combat magi. The Einzbern fought by having others battle for them.

"However, if you speak of those who are capable of fighting, but, barring extreme circumstances, shall not..." Adolf said once more. "Then half a dozen altogether. This is actually a good time to introduce you." He snapped his fingers loudly. "You can come in!" he said with a smile. "I know Agatha ordered you to wait at the door for us."

The door to Adolf's workshop flung open, and four bodies daintily made their ways inside, taking care not to step on anything valuable, joining the two others at Adolf's side. Within seconds all six maids had lined up next to Adolf, facing Assassin. Simultaneously, they all bowed.

Adolf began the introductions.

"This is Agatha." Adolf pointed to the stern maid that resembled a strict school teacher more than anything else. "She's been with me for almost twenty years now, and she's the most senior of my maids. Her orders should hold the same value as mine." Agatha showed no reaction to the compliment save a slight blush, and a readjustment of her glasses with a shaky hand.

"Here's Anne." Adolf walked to the redhead and patted her lightly on the head. Unlike Agatha, who stood almost as tall as Adolf himself, Anne was at least a head shorter. "Despite her looks, she's the second oldest of my maids. I was graced with her service fifteen years ago." Anne was even more stoic than Agatha, but gave a nervous curtsy anyway.

"These two are Genevieve and Isabella." Adolf introduced the next pair of maids together, and it was plain to see why. The two were almost identical busty brunettes, and could easily have been mistaken for twins. Genevieve smiled and gave a small wave, while Isabella tried for impassivity, though couldn't resist a slight upturning of the corner of her mouth.

"This is Kani." Adolf moved on to the dark-skinned maid, who didn't smile, but gave a stiff bow instead. "Don't mind her, she just gets nervous when meeting people for the first time," Adolf explained. Kani just blushed at the sentence, but didn't otherwise react .

"And finally, my newest maid, Emiko." Adolf saved the flustered new girl for last. She was blushing and trembling slightly. "In terms of seniority, she outranks you by only a few days!" Adolf chuckled. "But she'll serve as my translator for the duration of my stay here, since I can't understand the local language."

Having finished introducing his maids, Adolf stepped before them, and they all bowed together once more. "Each one of them is a homunculus, created by Einzbern family magecraft to be many times more powerful than a human being." Adolf continued. "Even one of these beautiful ladies possesses more prana in one hand than I do in my entire body. Each one can easily lift a carriage, destroy a castle wall, and tear a human body apart with her bare hands. They also frequently help me with my magecraft, and getting ready for battle."

"So," he grinned as he retrieved a bottle of a certain liquid from one of the cabinets nearby. "You'll find that while they are non-combatants, they are still capable of being incredibly useful when the time calls for it."

He held the bottle out to Assassin. "Brandy? Or would you prefer something stronger?"

Assassin nodded at each woman in turn as they were introduced. The tall Servant bowed slightly in return to their respect and addressed the small group as a whole.

"I have underestimated you all, then. I apologize. Now, Master..." Perhaps Assassin was frowning under his mask, or perhaps not. The one thing that was definite was the Servant's tone of disapproval, slight but noticeable. "I did not partake of alcohol in life, and I have no desire to start now. Do you insist?"

"Heh." Adolf chuckled weakly and withdrew the bottle. With his free hand he motioned towards his maids, who nodded and withdrew from the room, with the exception of Agatha, who silently stood to the side. "I suppose an Assassin that got drunk before a mission wouldn't be a very good one," he mused. "Very well then, to each his own. Let's get down to business."

Adolf marched to his desk and swept the whole mess of papers off the side. Even though they hit the floor with a cloud of dust, the older man didn't care. He merely set down the bottle of brandy on one corner of the desk, and removed a long scroll from within one of the drawers. He spread the parchment, and the scroll ended up covering the entire desk. He used the bottle of brandy as a paperweight on one side, and a smooth rock on the other.

"This is a map of Fuyuki City, our battleground." Adolf explained. "No doubt you've got a much more detailed map in your head thanks to the circumstances of your summoning, but for now we'll be using this to make our plans." The man tapped one of the figures on the map with his living finger, and the ink on the paper reconfigured into a rough outline of his estate. In flowing script the word _Einzbern _appeared there.

"This is our base." Adolf tapped two more places on the map, and the words _Makiri_ and _Tohsaka_ appeared as well. "These are the known homes of two of the enemy Masters, the Tohsaka and Makiri, the two other Great Families. In this war, they'll be our biggest threat."

He paused a moment to let it sink in. While this war may have been a War between seven Servants and Masters, in reality it was a battle between the Three Families that created the Grail. Any outsiders would be of little threat.

Adolf grabbed the bottle of brandy as well as a small glass. However, as he moved to pour himself a cup, Agatha's hand lightly stopped his. "Master, you shouldn't," she said.

"...not even a little? It's a bit stuffy in here," he protested weakly. "And it's not like drinking wine ever killed anyone."

Agatha was undeterred. "If you are planning something, it would be best to keep your mind sharp, not dulled by alcohol. You may drink when this War is over." She yanked the bottle away and replaced it with another paperweight.

Adolf grumbled, but didn't order her to return the bottle. Instead, he simply looked at Assassin and shrugged.

"So." He grinned suddenly. "How about we go take a look at how the Tohsaka Master is doing?"

Assassin glanced up from his examination of the map and nodded his agreement to the suggestion. "I have no objections, although taking some time to examine the town in more detail would be preferable as a first action. The Tohsaka Master can come second."

"Oh, we'll do that for sure." Adolf said absentmindedly as he eyed the map. "We can explore before we get there. Right now it's afternoon, and a good time to take a look around the city without being attacked. After all, it's easier to keep a war secret under the cover of darkness, so there's a smaller chance of hostilities if we wander around and meet the Tohsaka while the sun's up. Of course, knowing them, even that might not keep a fight from breaking out..."

He motioned with one hand, and Agatha approached.

"Have Anne and Kani prepare the bounded fields and traps." Adolf said, for once serious. "I want the mansion secure by the time we return. Tell Genevieve to get my equipment ready. Shields, armaments, one shot spells, the works. Get Isabelle to prepare my battle prosthetics. The ones specially enchanted by our top alchemists, if we have them." He paused, and deliberated for a moment. Unlike before, his eyes were sharp and full of purpose. "Have Emiko ready to travel within ten minutes. I'm taking her with us."

Agatha nodded. "As you wish, Master. It's nice to see you taking this seriously for once." She exited the room silently, leaving Assassin and Adolf alone.

As his maid left, Adolf let out his breath and slumped in his seat. He looked like an old man once more, instead of a magus ready to fight and die. "I'm getting too old for this." He sighed, and glanced at Assassin. "I do apologize if I slow you down. I'm not exactly the man I was 30 years ago. But for this war..." He forced a smile. "This me will be more than enough!"


End file.
